"Dying is a Delicate Moment"
A fanfic by Agara
"Kill me. Kill me if you ever loved me."
And he kills her.
CHAPTER NINE : DEAR SOCIETY
Thoughts are written in Italics
Big Line : New POV
OoOoOo : Same POV / Time Lapse
Note : this chapter cost Ara 400€ (she went to visit me/Aga in Paris) so she really hopes you like it.
You can also Venmo her ahah
We strongly advise you to re read chapter 5!
Song : Dear Society by Madison Beer
24.12.1942 :
"The main thing is, you bunch of fuckers will not fight. No fucking fighting !" Tom declared angrily.
Tom got closer to Isodor who was laughing with Edmund. Tom pointed his finger at him and the blond boy rose his head and looked at Riddle. "No fighting." The orphan repeated. "And no drinking, you are drunk enough already". He shot an angry glare at Edmund and Edgard, already smashed.
A heavy silence settled between the lads. "Come on Tom, it's a party !" Thorus argued.
Tom turned around to face him. "Come again ?" He asked.
"Well, it's the Christmas dinner. It is supposed to be fun."
"Well Thorus, at least you are right about something : it is the Christmas dinner. But if you think it is supposed to be fun then say that to all of your fathers who are trying to win a fucking election tonight." Tom spun around. "Look at all of you, already drunk and making fools of yourselves."
Tom took a deep breath. "No fighting, no drinking.." He turned around and faced the door to Slughorn's enlarged apartment. He adjusted his tie. "And no swearing."
He pushed the doors open. The flashing lights dazzled them for a couple of seconds. The loud music, played by the jazz band at the end of the room, reached their ears. With his left hand, he took one glass of champagne, drank it in one go, put the glass back on the silver tray and exhaled. "Let's do it lads."
The lads all dispersed. Tom stood straight.
OoOoOo
24.12.1942 :
Champagne
Tom made his way through the crowd, shook some hands, a fake smile plastered on his face.
This Christmas Party was different from the previous year. This year, there was something at stakes. The four candidates for Minister of Magic were present : Rosier, Malfoy, Lestrange and Tuft. That is why tonight was the perfect opportunity for Tom. The perfect opportunity to gather information.
"Tom ! Come over here boy !" He heard Slughorn said to him a couple of meters from here.
He approached a large circle and settled between Rupert Everett, a reporter at the Daily Prophet, and Cole Woodcroft. Next to the 6th Year Slytherin was Pollux, a glass of champagne in his hand. In front of the oldest Parkinson stood Grace. She wore an emerald tulle green dress. Her shoulders were bare and a diamond necklace laid on her cleavage. Her usual wild hair was styled in a perfect bun at the crook of her neck.
"We were talking about Grace's article." Slughorn informed him.
"Do you need me to congratulate you ?" Tom took a sip of champagne. "Once again ?" He finished.
"I would never ask you that. " Grace answered cheekily.
As if…
"And it is not the last piece she wrote !" Slughorn intervened. "You should have heard Dumbledore talking about her essay on Animagi. Marvelous !"
"Thank you professor." She replied humbly.
"You know Rupert" The large professor addressed the only professional in this circle "I remember clearly when she came to me, scared not to be able to hand over the essay on time…"
Here we go again.
Slughorn had always had the habit to take credit for helping students on whatever subjects they were working on. Even though the only thing he did was congratulate them once they had done all the work.
Tom looked at Grace, expecting her to look back to share a knowing glance. But she didn't.
Grace and Pollux were already looking at each other, a small smile on their lips.
"If anyone needs to be congratulated it should be me." Pollux intervened. "I taught her everything."
Grace coughed, trying to mask her laughter.
"Come one kiddo, don't be shy. Everyone needs help once in a while." He grinned and took another glass of champagne from a moving tray.
Tom quickly scanned the room and saw the lads talking to several groups of people. He caught Dolohov's gaze and nodded. He focused back on the conversation and found out the reporter got interested in Grace's essay so Tom took the first opportunity to excuse himself and go mingle.
24.12.1942 :
"I've studied Chapster's theory on Human Transfiguration and his angle on psychological transformation coming along the animagus process." Hermione explained to Rupert.
The reporter seemed invested in what she was telling him. At one point he had taken out of his bag a little notebook. She had smiled internally.
"Excuse me sir." She heard on her left. She turned her head and saw Milton along with who seemed to be his brother.
"Denniston ! Good to see you my boy, how are you doing ?" Slughorn asked the latter.
"Great Professor ! But actually I have to leave your party, I just got an owl from work and I am required over there." Denniston Mulciber explained.
Why does he look so familiar ? Have you seen him somewhere ?
After a last handshake, the oldest Mulciber left the room. Milton came next to her, taking her away from Slughorn's smelly breath.
"I would have loved for you to meet my brother Gracie." The boy said to her.
"Another time." She smiled.
In front of her, Pollux finished his drink, took two glasses of champagne, handed one to her. She kindly refused not having finished the one she had in her hand. He shrugged, downed one of the glass and took the other one in his left hand.
"Care to join me on the dancefloor ?" Pollux told her in a posh accent.
She laughed and nodded.
They moved towards the dancing area and stared at each other for a couple of seconds, strangely silent.
"Why are we taking this shit so seriously ?" Pollux asked.
Without having the time to answer, Pollux finished his drink, took hers and put down them both on a moving tray. They stared at each other, still silent and unmoving. They didn't need to talk. They only needed to dance. 1,2,3, they began.
They were carefree, like two twelve years old, silly dancing, and not giving a damn about what people could think. She laughed at his robot imitation. He smiled at her poor attempt at the Charleston. She put her hands on his shoulder and felt the soft texture of his tuxedo. She could smell his fancy cologne but with a hint of cold tobacco.
Once the song was over, they breathed heavily still grinning.
"I've never seen you laughed before." Pollux told her out-of-breath.
"What ? I have laughed before !" Hermione replied, a hand on her heart, faking being hurt.
"Not like that. You should laugh more often. Another drink ?"
"I believed we were only allowed two glasses of champagne."
Pollux was already heading towards the bar. He slightly turned around and said "I can't hear you over the number of glasses I am taking."
She smiled and followed him.
In a corner of the room, Hermione saw Cassandre and Walburga whispering. Since she arrived in May, she had always seen Walburga with a mask of coldness and Cassandre with one of haughtiness. Yet, at this very moment, they looked like two teenagers enjoying their night and exchanging sincere smiles of adoration.
You would have never thought Walburga Black could look like that from the painting at Grimmauld Place.
She arrived at the bar.
"Grace !" Thorus smiled. He leaned and kissed her left cheek.
Thorus was wearing a dark grey suit with a black tie. His hair, usually a little disheveled, was slicked back. Hermione could see on his silver tie pin the blazon of the Nott family.
"Thorus, you look.. well… quite… gentlemanly" She smiled.
"And you, you look.. Well… quite… ladylike." He mocked her.
She shoved him lightly and he smiled.
"I have someone I need to introduce you to." Nott told her.
Hermione looked around her to find Pollux. The latter gave her a smile and told her that they would catch-up later. Thorus took her arm and they weaved in and out to reach his father. She could feel her glass in her right hand and the moldings on the crystal. She could hear different fragments of conversations : from the Gryffindor Quidditch Captain talking strategies with one of his fellow players to a Ministry officer complaining about his boss.
The party was alive, people were all chatting enthusiastically. This Christmas dinner had nothing to do with the one she had experienced in her own timeline. This party was actually fun.
Thorus and Hermione arrived in front of a circle of two gentlemen chatting over a drink. The oldest quickly looked at the two students and dismissed the man he was conversing with. The two Slytherin approached.
"Father, let me introduce to you Grace Hortense." Thorus said.
"Miss Hortense, it is a pleasure to finally meet you."
Thorus' father hand kissed her left hand.
"The pleasure is mine." She answered.
Amuse-bouche 1 : Smoked Salmon Canapés
Timotheus Nott was a fifty-seven years old businessman. He was well known among his fellow members of the Wizengamot for driving a hard bargain. He was as much respected as he was loaded : which meant a lot. He also praised himself for making the best decisions : the wife he chose, the education he gave his son, the business he made thrive and finally the candidate he supported.
So Hermione was not shocked when she saw from the corner of her eyes Wilhelmina Tuft approaching her.
"You must be Grace." The witch smiled.
"I am." Hermione replied, the lie easy on the tongue. "Nice to meet you, Mrs. Tuft."
"Please call me Wilhelmina. How do you like England ?" She asked while taking an amuse bouche.
"Wetter and colder than what I was used to in France but charming."
"I am sincerely saddened by the conditions you ended up here, but I hope you find Hogwarts a home like everyone in this room did or does."
They began talking, the four of them, about Hogwarts, England, Business and Elections. Professor Dumbledore joined them.
"Wilhelmina, I see you have met Ms. Hortense." The redhead said.
"Albus we are all on first name basis here." The witch smiled.
"We were talking about what was going on in France at the moment." Timotheus explained. "The French Aurors just got intelligence that Grindelwald's followers are meeting in cemeteries in Paris. They raided one an hour ago, Le Père Lachaise, they arrested ten of them. Amazing work they are doing there."
They were all waiting for a comment from the future headmaster but he only nodded his head, acknowledging Nott's intervention.
"Have you been to France lately Albus ?" Tuft asked him.
"No."
Hermione thought he answered a bit too quickly. She leaned slightly closer to him, expecting him to form a full sentence instead of one-syllable words.
You are not fooling everybody Dumbledore.
"Well, I went to the French Ministry for business last month." Dumbledore corrected.
"Oh is it regarding the new investments they are…" Timotheus started.
Hermione shared a look with Dumbledore. One that only lasted four seconds. In those four seconds an entire conversation took place. In those four seconds she knew he didn't tell the entire truth. And in those four seconds, he knew he didn't fool everyone.
Hermione excused herself and left the circle. She wandered across the room, sometimes chatting with some fellow Slytherin or taking one of the salmon canapés in her mouth.
The smooth jazz set the perfect atmosphere, Hermione turned and faced the band. She simply enjoyed the sound of the saxophone mixed with the upright bass and the piano. The heavenly sound turned out to be less interesting than the whispered conversation taking place behind her.
"She is seventeen Corvus. Seventeen for fuck sakes." She heard Septimus Malfoy whisper.
"Don't you think I know that ?" The other man replied.
Who is he talking to ? What is he talking about ?
"How could you let that happen ?" Malfoy Senior continued. "How long has it been going on ?"
A heavy silence settled.
"Who have you told ?" The other man asked.
"No one. Yet."
"Are you trying to blackmail me Malfoy ? Is that what you are trying to do ?"
"You call it blackmail, I just call it leverage."
"You are a fuck friend Septimus."
"We are not fifteen anymore Corvus." Glass clicking in the background made Malfoy stop talking. Hermione shot a quick glance and saw the tall blond man looking around him. "Just keep it in your pants." Septimus barely whispered.
Hermione took a small step back in order to catch the following of the conversation.
"I don't want to have to tell your wife about your mess." He continued.
"You wouldn't dare. I've hidden all of your shits from the Wizengamot and I won't hesitate to dig them up."
"You do that Corvus, I swear your wife won't be the only one aware of your dirty secret."
Behind her the two men left before she could try to identify this Corvus. She asked for a glass of water at the bar and looked at the dancing area.
"Not too disappointed ?"
She turned her head and saw Tom leaning on the bar next to her.
"I was expected something more… Slughornish ?" Hermione answered.
Tom pointed, with his chin, towards Slughorn entertaining a loud crowd. "More Slughornish than that ?"
Hermione chuckled. "I had a lot of expectations." She gave him a last glance before leaving his side and heading towards Pollux at the opposite of the room.
On her way to her friend she got intercepted by a slightly bored Isodor, mouthing her to stay by his side. "Please don't leave me alone with them."
Amuse-bouche 2 : Tuna loin with black radish and passionfruit coulis
"It hasn't changed since 1436 Arcturus. It is not going to change now ! You know as well as I do that the concentration of fairy wings in potions is strictly regulated." A tall forty-year-old man told to what looked like an older Orion Black.
"I know that but it doesn't make it appropriate ! I have just read the article by Odette Smarckle on a new use of fairy wings and it opened my mind to new possible potions." Arcturus answered.
Hermione looked at Isodor. "Why are we staying here ?" She mouthed him.
"I've been here for too long I can't back down now." He replied without making a noise. "And it's becoming oddly captivating."
Hermione couldn't help but snicker. The two adults finally acknowledged their presences.
"Isodor !" The older Orion Black said. "How long have you been here for ?"
"I just arrived." Avery answered. "Twenty minutes ago." He added whispering.
"Who's your charming friend ?"
"Mr. Black, Mr. Rosier this is Grace Hortense."
They both turned around and faced her.
"Arcturus Black." The first one offered a handshake. "I have heard a lot about you."
"Nicolas Rosier." The other only added.
Oh Nicolas Rosier. Your name will be recurrent in the papers.
"Mr. Rosier, I've heard a lot about you back in France. It is good to finally make your acquaintance." Hermione said. She saw Rosier tensing up. "After all your bloodline is French before being British, isn't it ?" She fake smiled.
Orion Black, who was standing next to his father with Galatis Carrow, yawned.
"You must know my son Ms. Hortense." Arcturus quickly intervened in order to cover his son behaviour.
Orion nodded towards her. "Where is your intended ?" His father asked him.
"She went to the powder room father." The boy answered.
Isodor coughed and leaned towards Hermione. "She went there an hour ago." He whispered.
"And she was not alone." Hermione added.
"Well Orion, go get her. A lady should never be left unintended." Arcturus gave a pointed look at his son. The latter nodded, excused himself and went away.
A silence settled between the five of them. Galatis Carrow, even though she had known the two older men since her birth, seemed uneasy. Hermione looked at her and saw her searching for something to say in order to put an end to the silence.
"Have you heard about the arrestations ?" Galatis finally said.
Another silence. Rosier and Black were staring at Galatis, waiting for more information on the subject.
"Well Ms. Carrow, when you have information of that importance, there are three things you need to respect. First, your source, is it reliable ? Are you entirely sure about the veracity of your say intel ? Second, you need to be confident that you know everything on the subject in order not to make a fool of yourself. And finally, who are you telling the information to ? Are you using this statement to fill in the blanks or is there a real purpose behind it ?" Arcturus Black declared.
Galatis looked like she was going to burst into tears. Arcturus Black, on the other hand, felt like his little speech was nothing more than another lesson to give to a child.
"Out of the three Ms. Carrow, telling me this information was the only sensible thing you did tonight." He finished.
Galatis discreetly squealed. "Well gentlemen, if you could excuse me I need to go to the ladies' room."
Arcturus stepped aside to let her leave the circle.
"If I may... " Hermione started. The attention of the three men was focused on her. "I know from Lord Nott that the French Aurors arrested ten of Grindelwald's men just over an hour ago after getting intelligence about the location of their secret meetings : au cimetière du Père Lachaise."
"At the Père Lachaise cemetery ?" Arcturus parrotted.
"It not only a muggle cemetery. A lot of wizarding families have a vault over there." Isodor added.
"The Rosier Family has one there, don't you ?" Hermione asked innocently.
Nicolas Rosier sent her a deathly glare and quickly responded. "So does the Lestrange."
Yes but the Lestrange are not known for being Grindelwald's supporters. Nicolas, do you get the slight difference ?
"Ms Hortense, Mr Avery, Arcturus, have a good evening... I-I need to refill my glass." After that statement Rosier left.
Hermione followed him with her gaze. "Lord Black it was a pleasure to meet you. I need to see someone."
"Ms Hortense ?" Black stopped her in her way to leave. "The pleasure was mine."
Keep going like that Hermione.
She shyly smiled, nodded and as she was leaving she heard Isodor say "About the 1436 law…"
She chuckled.
Oddly captivating indeed.
Amuse-bouche 3 : Pickled baby beets with herbed goat cheese and kumquats
She stopped to talk to some of her professors. Slughorn was entertaining the circle she was in by retelling a match of Quidditch. While the large professor explained a "phenomenal" goal from the Russian Team, Hermione heard Cassandre's voice not far.
She slightly turned around and saw the entire Parkinson family. The father, Haurus Parkinson, reprimanded his younger son, while the heir drank another glass.
"... and in front of the entire society ? How dare you embarrass me like that ?"
"Father they were just talking." Pollux intervened.
"Son, you know as well as I do that it was not just talking."
Cassandre and Walburga ? Again ?
"It is not as if anything could happen now." Cassandre said.
His father leaned onto his younger son's personal space. The features of his face were terrifying. Pollux put his hand on his father's shoulder "Father, not here."
"You are right son. At least my heir has some common sense. Learn something from your brother Cassandre, at least he knows how to behave in a social gathering."
Cassandre barked out a laugh, as if he had just heard the most insane thing in his entire life.
"He knows how to behave ? Are you kidding me father ? Take a good look at him."
Upon these words Cassandre Parkinson left in a hurry, jostling one of the guests who spilled some of his goblin's bourbon on Pollux' tuxedo.
Hermione realised that she was more focused on a conversation she was not a part of than the one she was supposed to participate in. She turned her head towards the circle of wizards she was in, and tried to catch up with what she had just missed.
"If you like Quidditch that much Horace, I just got tickets for the next match between Bulgaria and Ireland."
You know that voice Hermione.
"Thank you Corvus. It's highly appreciated." Her potions professor said.
"But Father I thought…" Edgard Lestrange started.
"Not right now." Corvus Lestrange cut him.
No fucking way.
Hermione felt quickly overwhelmed. There were too many information, too many people she needed to talk to. She just needed some fresh air or maybe a drink.
Where is Aberforth when you need him ?
She didn't need to excuse herself as the people were chatting enthusiastically about the next Quidditch game. She headed towards the bar and asked for a glass of champagne. She took it in her right hand and her gaze came upon her Headmaster. Armando Dippet seemed already tired of his night. He settled next to her, took a good look at the glass in her hand and smiled. She blushed.
"Ms Hortense, we haven't had the time to really talk since your arrival."
"Headmaster Dippet." She said uneasily due to the unauthorized alcohol in her hand.
"I won't tell anyone Ms Hortense, you can drink it." He chuckled. "I would ask you how your classes are, but I have only heard good things about you. After all, with your school record I was not expecting less of you."
"Grace I can't do it anymore" Isodor appeared next to her. "Headmaster Dippet ! I didn't you see here. How are you doing on this fine night ?"
"Mr Avery, if only you could be interested in those kinds of party as much as you are in mischief."
There was a second of silence before the headmaster kept going.
"I need to go back and shake some hands. Ms Hortense I hope it will not take another six months before we talk again. Mr Avery I will see you soon in detention I guess."
Armando Dippet bowed his head and left. Isodor grabbed her wrist and took her outside. It felt good to breathe some fresh air. She just realized that the sound inside was tiring. The patio was filled with students. On the left side, she saw Pollux and Cole leaning against the wall, sharing a smoke. She smiled at Isodor and both of them went their own way. Avery joined the lads on the right and she approached the two Sixth Year.
"Hey Kiddo." Pollux said.
"Still drinking ?" She smiled.
"It's water." He replied.
"Eau-de-vie" Cole coughed masking his words.
"There is still the word water in the name at least." Hermione laughed.
They were, the three of them, leaning against the brick wall, enjoying the quietness. They could hear some of the other students talking in the background. She smelt the goblin's bourbon coming off Pollux's suit.
"Mate I am so glad we only have one those bloody Christmas party left. I feel like I have aged forty years in just two hours." Cole declared.
"You're preaching to the converted." Pollux exhaled, smoke coming out of his mouth. "Too much politics and for what ? A bloody corner office. At least when my family was in charge there was not that much fuss."
Dolohov turned around a few meters away. "Come on Pollux, not again."
"What ? I am just saying that when Perseus Parkison was Minister there was not all that fuss"
"It was in 1726 mate ! You weren't even born and you never met the dude."
"Still, I guess it was not like that."
Pollux and Cole laughed as if it was a private joke between the two of them.
"Are we talking about the same Perseus ? The one who attempted to pass a bill making it illegal to marry a Muggle and misread the public mood ? The one the wizarding community, tired of anti-Muggle sentiment and wanting peace, voted him out at the first opportunity ?" Hermione intervened.
"You are only focusing on the bad parts. It wasn't like that." Pollux smiled down at her.
"Shut up Pollux." Cole and Dolohov said at the same time.
After that, both the lads and the Sixth Years began talking among themselves loudly. Hermione kept quiet and observed. She wouldn't have noticed Tom got close to her if it was not for his cologne.
"Who are you betting on ?" He asked her.
She turned her head. The prefect was wearing an entirely black suit, from his costume to his shirt and tie. This outfit matched his eyes and his hair.
Hermione understood by the smirk on his face what he was talking about. She was not the only one "gambling" about who would end up Minister of Magic. Tom was as much involved as she was apparently.
"Only a blind person would make the wrong bet." She replied.
He chuckled silently. He fixed his tie, ready to go back inside, but leaned a little. "By the way, it is true, you should laugh more often."
She watched him go back inside, his words still resonating in her head and his smell still floating around her.
He is everywhere.
24.12.1942 :
The first thing he noticed when he entered the large room was the loud noise. He put back the fake smile on his face and joined the crowd. Some handshakes, casual conversation, a few good words placed to the right people. Tom knew how it worked and he was good at it.
After a dozen of minutes he felt a little dizzy. He went to the bar and asked for a glass of water.
"Tom."
He tensed at the recognition of the voice, smiled then turned around.
"Professor Dumbledore." He replied.
"We could call this party a success, wouldn't we ?"
"Professor Slughorn really outdid himself this year."
"You should enjoy your night Tom."
The implications of those words were clear for Tom.
"So should you Professor."
They exchanged a look.
You are not fooling everyone.
The professor nodded and left.
I really need a drink.
OoOoOo
24.12.1942 :
Amuse-bouche 4 : Parmesan biscuit with avocado chantilly toast
"Afterall it was my idea to create a fund with Rosier and Lestrange for the new aisle at St Mungo's." Tom heard Malfoy praise himself.
Of course it was..
It is not as if I have not told your sons that you all needed to do something together in order to appear in the newspaper instead of Tuft.
It is not as if I have not told your sons that St Mungo's would benefit from a donation to build a new aisle.
"It is fine to talk about our foreign policies but if we don't focus our strengths on our own society and what we could do to enhance our citizen's daily life, are we really doing the right thing ?" Septimus kept going.
This conversation had begun with Septimus Malfoy, some members of the Ministry, Aurelian Greengrass, Antonin Dolohov Senior, Thorus, Isodor and Tom. Lord Malfoy was clearly trying to undermine Tuft's policies.
"Tuft is so sure England will suffer the same fate as France that she is not focused enough on the rest. Maybe we should create a department dedicated to futile matters and she could be the head of it."
Tom tried not to roll his eyes at the pathetic statement Abraxas' father just made.
The Greengrass had always been fervent supporters of the Malfoys so Tom was not even surprised when Aurelian Greengrass nodded enthusiastically at the words coming out of his friend's mouth.
In the distance Tom noticed Galbanda Greengrass, Belone McNair and Grace chatting. At the sight of his own daughter, Aurelian call out her name and asked the girls to join them. The circle extended.
"Gentleman you remember my daughter Galbanda and her friend Belone Mcnair, Desdal's daughter." He turned towards Grace. "And you must be Ms Hortense."
The brunette nodded.
Malfoy Senior looked at Galbanda and declared "I was just telling your father Tuft's ideas were not sufficient."
A somber laugh escaped Antonin's father. The crowd turned to him. "Septimus, aren't you just trying to undermine Tuft's authority because you know that more than half of the Wizengamot is supporting her ?"
"The Wizengamot has nothing to do with that." The blond answered sharply.
"My bad !" He fake apologised. "I actually wanted to talk about the mess you're implicated in at the Wizengamot."
He is less subtle than I thought.
Tom saw that Aurelian Greengrass was trying to find a way to change the subject. His gaze fell on Grace. Tom knew for sure he was going to ask her about the attacks back in France.
Is there a better way to change a subject than throwing the bone at someone else ?
Isodor and Thorus chose that moment to begin laughing. Tom shot them a deathly glance but Greengrass caught that, stared at him and talked.
"Tom you are living in muggle London aren't you ?"
Tom tensed, did not answer and waited for the rest to come.
"Isn't it too difficult with the war going over there ? What about rationing…"
From this moment on, the young generation saw the tension in Tom's body. His face was losing his smile and his eyes became darker.
"Isn't it too harsh on a young boy like yourself ? And the bombings are they…"
Greengrass' monologue was interrupted by a loud crashing noise. Everyone stopped and looked at Grace. She had just dropped her glass on the ground.
"I am terribly sorry. I must be tipsier than I thought ... Silly me." She explained visibly ashamed.
Fucking Hortense. Thank you.
Slughorn arrived and broke the silence that just settled. "Excuse me, may I borrow Grace and Tom for a moment ?"
The two students nodded at the guests and followed their professors into the crowd.
They entered a new circle composed of Professor Merrythought, Headmaster Dippet, two academicians from Ilvermorny and some Ministry officials.
"Those are the two students I was talking to you about Professor Beadles." Slughorn said.
French wine
Tom and Grace greeted the adults and altogether began talking about their classes and their aspirations for their futures.
"Horace, I have always heard about your famous Christmas gathering but I must say that I was not expecting something so spectacular." Professor Beadles explained above the jazz music. She turned towards the two students. "Is it always like that ?" She asked them.
"Well Grace cannot attest for that it is only her first dinner after all. But I assure you that it is always impressive." Tom smiled.
You may be Slughorn's new shiny toy, but I will always be his favorite.
People kept talking after that. Tom turned towards Grace and smirked. He also noticed that she took his bait.
"And what are you studying in potions at the moment ?" A ministry official asked Grace.
"We are currently working on altering some beginners potions." She answered.
"It seems quite advanced for a fifth-years."
"Actually it is not what I am teaching in my conventional class…" Slughorn intervened.
Conventional class ?
"... you see Grace here is quite the prodigy in Potions."
"Professor…" Grace humbly tried to stop him.
"Aren't you taking private lessons with Professor Slughorn ?" Merrythought asked the French girl.
Come again ?
"Every Wednesday night and Friday before conventional class." Slughorn proudly announced.
You must be kidding me. Is this where she disappeared for four months ? Only for private classes ?
He rose his head and looked directly at her. She had a smug smile on her face that screamed "I played you."
Tom took a glass of red wine and downed it.
24.12.1942 :
Hermione had just finished an interesting conversation with Nott senior and his son. She came across the dancing area to go outside, to breathe some fresh air. However she spotted on her left, Nicolas Rosier opening an envelope, colors leaving is face.
Hermione got closer but got interrupted by Pollux. "Horteeense ! Come party with the real folks !"
"Pollux I don't have time right now." She tried to bypass him. He stopped her by grabbing her wrist.
"Come on we've barely talked."
"Later Pollux ! I just told you I can't right now."
"You don't need to make any connexions. After all I am the heir of the prestigious Parkinson family !" He joked trying to hide his disdain for what he had just said.
"Go drink a glass of water and I will find you later."
Hermione didn't wait for his answer that she was already getting closer to Nicolas Rosier. She watched him talking with Antonin Dolohov Senior. She approached the bar and took a verrine.
Verrine : Tuna and beets crumble
Nicolas hastened to rip apart the picture he had in his hand. Hermione just got the time to catch a sight of it. On the wizard photography she saw Nicolas stepping out of the door wearing dress robes with the famous symbol. The same one Xenophilius Lovegood wore at Bill and Fleur's wedding. Grindelwald trademark. The picture was another proof of his involvement in the movement.
Edmund's father hissed. "Who sent me this ?" He asked Dolohov.
"I told you it was a bad idea to be involved in this. Who else knows ?"
"It is a secret. Only five people know."
"Five people ? It is not a secret anymore, it is information."
Nicolas Rosier rose his head and came upon Hermione's eyes. She quickly lowered her gaze.
Fuck.
24.12.1942 :
Tom was bored. The conversation, taking place before his eyes, was almost putting him to sleep. His eyes wandered around the room.
He saw from afar Pollux and Grace talking. She seemed in a hurry and annoyed with him whereas Pollux was joyful and a little pissed. He followed Grace with his gaze as she moved towards the bar and took a verrine. She turned her head, so did he.
He noticed Nicolas Rosier and Dolohov senior talking vehemently. The first one had the remains of what seemed to be a paper in his hand. The look on his face said it all : it was important information.
The two men exchanged a few words before Rosier lifted his head, a mixture of anger and determination on his face. Tom searched for Rosier's target of hatred : Grace.
The head of the Rosier family walked towards her at a determined pace. Grace, on the other hand, was scared. For the first, Tom saw pure fear in her eyes. Tom took a step forward, not sure what to do. Then he saw Rosier grab Grace's wrist violently. At this, Tom kept walking towards them. He tried to cross the ocean of people separating him from them.
Still holding vehemently Grace's wrist, Tom saw Rosier talking. Tom tried to move faster.
Fruit punch
"...c'est pour le plus grand bien n'est-ce pas ?" Grace whispered loudly.
"Tu n'es qu'une gamine qui s'est retrouvée au milieu d'une guerre d'adultes. Ca ne te concerne pas." Rosier spat back.
Grace scoffed. "Comment osez-vous dire que ça ne me concerne pas, alors que la seule chose que vous ayez faite jusqu'à présent a été de vous asseoir derrière un bureau. »
Even though Tom did not understand a word that had just been said, he knew that this conversation was not going to end well.
Tom saw from the corner of his eyes Rosier reaching for his wand. He knew he needed to intervene. He snatched a glass of punch and joined them.
"Grace !" Tom said theatrically. He knew he did not sound natural. "I have been looking everywhere for you. I got you a glass of punch." He gave her the glass.
"Why ?" She genuinely asked, still pretty shocked about what had just happened.
Tom noticed that Rosier was not the only one who had reached for his wand. Grace lowered her hand from her holster and took the glass he just offered. Rosier left abruptly, leaving the two Slytherin alone.
"Why the fuck did you do that ?" Grace barked.
"What the fuck did you do ?" He spat back.
Tom noticed that the people around them started staring. He took Grace's wrist and heard her hiss from the pain. He quickly let go of her hand and stared at the bruises Rosier had left. He said nothing.
"It doesn't concern you Riddle." Grace whispered.
"Did you really think I would have let you ruin the night by starting a duel ? You are not the only one with an agenda." He shot at her.
They stayed silent, staring at one another. They were secluded in an almost deserted area. The guests were mainly gathered around the bar and the dancing area. From where they were, they could talk without anyone eavesdropping on their conversation. Apparently, they were not the only who thought this spot was perfect for not being overheard.
"Maybe we could just leave." Grace and Tom heard.
They turned their head at the same time and saw, in a dark alcove, Cassandre and Walburga.
"We haven't graduated yet." Walburga chuckled.
"Who cares ?" Cassandre laughed. "We have money, we could flee the country, start something in a foreign one just the two of us."
"Let's do this." Walburga smiled.
"Let's do this." Cassandre repeated.
For a couple of seconds, Tom and Grace forgot entirely about what had just happened with Rosier.
"They are fools." Tom declared.
"They are in love." Grace said calmly.
"Isn't that the same thing ?"
Tom shot a last glance at the two lovers and left.
Assortment of desserts
Thirty minutes later Tom found himself talking to the lads sans Dolohov. He could finally relax a bit for a minute. He wondered where Antonin was, usually when he summoned the lads for a meeting he was the first one to show up.
Where is he ?
Tom saw from afar Antonin talking to his father.
"Excuse me lads." He said. "Abraxas I will need to talk to you later about some french translation."
He approached the Dolohovs but stopped in his track when he caught a glimpse of their conversation.
"Lower your voice." His father ordered Antonin. "Did you do what I asked of you ?"
"I have heard some interesting conversations."
"And ?"
"You were right father. The Malfoys are in a real mess with the Wizengamot."
Well I see you are not working exclusively for me Dolohov.
"Can you get your hands on names son ?"
"I will father."
Tom saw father and son walking away from each other. As they separated the prefect caught sight of a particular shade of green : emerald.
Why is she alone ? It is not the first time tonight. Why would someone, with an agenda, choose to be alone in an important gathering ?
He chose to join her. "Hortense." He simply said. He felt as if he just interrupted something.
"Can't you just leave me alone for one second Riddle ?"
"Why ? Do you have something to hide?"
"Well the last time you thought I was hiding something, it turned out I just had private classes with a professor." He heard the smirk in her voice.
"Why did you keep it a secret ?"
"That's the funny thing Riddle, it never was a secret. You just assumed as much and I just went along with it." She mocked him.
They stood still for a couple of more seconds. "Well Riddle, I must leave you. As you said, I do have an agenda tonight."
She left.
What was she doing there ?
He took a good look around him and noticed that a painting was staring at him.
She looked like I interrupted her.
He stared at the painting, he understood, he smirked.
"Good evening Sir, may I ?" Tom said.
24.12.1942 :
After-dinner liqueur
"How long has it been ?" Isodor asked quietly Milton.
"4 hours I think." The small boy answered.
"It is not a dinner anymore, it is a fucking sleepover."
At the swear word, Tom shoved him a little whereas Hermione chuckled.
It's been four hours Hermione. You have met every candidate. They are all gathered here. Let's see out this turns out.
Slughorn, apparently sick of the political talk, left the conversation and was replaced by Dumbledore. The circle was composed of all the important people : the lads, some of their fathers, Tuft, Dumbledore, Hermione and Tom.
Between two drags of this cigar, Corvus Lestrange exposed his view on the actual state of France. "After all, France is not as destroyed as they want us to believe in the tabloids."
"Have you been there ? I have, and I can tell you that it is as much destroyed as the press tells." Tuft intervened. "Even more."
"They only suffered five or six attacks." Rosier said.
"Only five or six ?" Tuft repeated. "Are you hearing the words coming out of your mouth ? Would you say the same thing if it was England instead of France ?"
Septimus Malfoy was ready to spat back at Tuft when a photographer interrupted the heated argument. "Picture for the Daily Prophet ? Let's do one with all the candidates then we will take one with everyone."
The four wizards stepped forward and smiled. Their smiles were so fake that Hermione wondered if anyone could be fooled by them. They were tensed and eager to get done with it. She heard one of the reporters next to the photographer commenting "this would be perfect, let's bring the children and professors."
The others, whom she was a part of, approached and settled around the candidates.
When the first flash dazzled Hermione, she realised what it meant : she had never seen a picture of Grace Hortense in the 1990's, she had never read anything about her. Yet, she had just written a rune's article and just took a picture which will be the next cover of the Daily Prophet.
How ?
What have you been thinking ? You weren't careful enough Hermione. You need to sort this out.
Does it mean you need to get rid of them ?
The panic she felt rising in her chest quickly disappeared as Malfoy barked the argument he had been waiting to say before they all got interrupted.
"Why are you always bringing England in the matter ? It almost looks like you want to be attacked. You are playing with people's fears so they will vote for you." Malfoy spat.
"May I remind you that the prior minister of magic had been urged to resign because he didn't take this threat seriously ?" Haurus Parkinson added.
"Afterall we have professor Dumbledore." Desdal Macnair objected.
Everyone looked at the concerned. Hermione could not distinguish the questions shot at Dumbledore as they came from everywhere : parents, candidates, students.
"Listen everyone." Dumbledore finally said. "Yes we do have to take the threat seriously. Why is he afraid of me ? I don't know. Is he really afraid of me ? I don't know. Should my presence keep him at bay it would only be for a short period of time. That is why we cannot not take this threat seriously."
"And how do you want us to prepare ourselves for that ? It is not like the French want to divulge any intel regarding the said attacks !" Lestrange asserted.
"Well, if I may interrupt." Tom announced. "You have intel right here." He looked at her and smiled.
What are you playing at Riddle ?
"Yes Ms Hortense, do tell us." Septimus Malfoy said.
"What do you want to know Lord Malfoy ?" She calmly answered.
"How could you not have known that they were going to attack Beauxbatons ?" Rosier cut her.
"That is the point of a surprise attack Mr. Rosier, no one is aware it is going to happen" She sarcastically said.
"Why did you not leave the academy sooner ? I heard you had a portkey, right ? Why didn't you use it before the massacre ?" Lestrange interrogated her.
"Well…"
"When you let the younger students leave the castle, why didn't you leave ?" Rosier cut her.
"Some of us needed to stay behind to fight back."
This is not information they are looking for, they just want to discredit your story for their owns.
"You were able to get people out, why didn't you let help in, then ?" Septimus Malfoy asked.
"W-we…" Hermione tried.
"Why did you leave alone ? You could have taken other people with your portkey." Lestrange assumed.
"I-I…"
They were talking about France, she knew it, but she couldn't help but think about her own departure, the real one. The guilt became stronger.
She could not talk. She felt her throat closing from the pressure they put on her shoulders. Her face turned pale and her palms became clammy. Hermione looked around her, desperately trying to find help. Every lad were running away from the stare. Tom was simply emotionless, waiting for her to respond, waiting for her to react. Dumbledore was gawking at her, suddenly interested in what she had to say. And for once, she had nothing to say.
"Would you say you could have done something more ?" Rosier pointedly asked.
"Could you have prevented it ?"Septimus added.
Her head began to spin.
"Would you have prevented it ?" Between all the questions that were thrown at her, she distinctively heard the whispered sentence coming out of Tom's mouth.
After that, she only felt a hand on her shoulder, and someone softly excusing themselves before taking her away from the circle.
She rose her head and saw her transfiguration teacher guiding her away towards the bar. Once they arrived he ordered her a glass of water.
"I need something stronger." She said more to herself than the bartender.
"Bourbon." Dumbledore declared.
"Firewhiskey." She rectified.
Dumbledore nodded his head and the barman poured her the drink. None of them talked. They simply looked in front of them and drank their beverages. Hermione knew that Dumbledore was waiting for her to say something.
"What do you want me to say ?" She simply asked.
"I don't know. What do you want to tell me ?"
"It is not because you gave me a drink that I am going to spill all of my secrets Professor."
She turned her head and saw Tom smirking from afar. Her guilt melted into anger. He thought he could do anything, throw anyone under the bus, even her. At that moment, she felt powerless. She saw him excusing himself and leaving the circle.
"Thanks for the drink." She stated before rushing behind Tom into the crowd.
As she was about to join him, she felt a hand on her shoulder. She turned around and saw Pollux. The alcohol he had been drinking all night gave him a crooked smile.
No. You don't have time Hermione.
"No Pollux I really don't have time." The words came out harsher than she had intended.
"Just one drink !" He pointed the bar, losing his balance for a second.
"A drink ? Don't you think you have drunk enough already ?" She spat.
"You're no fun." Pollux slurred. "Just like my brother."
"Maybe you should listen to him for once. And go drink a glass of water for fuck sakes."
She turned around again and joined Tom on the terrace. It seemed as if he was waiting for her. He had one elbow on the balustrade and his other hand held a glass of bourbon. She quickly looked around them to make sure no one was around.
She got close to him and smacked the drink out of his hand. The glass broke on the floor.
"Never do that again." She threatened him.
"I do not know what you are talking about." He mocked.
"You know exactly what I am talking about that. Don't pull this shit on me again Riddle.
"We were only having a conversation. You are just overreacting."
"What is the matter with you ?" She almost yelled. "This is not a game ! This is my life, my story to say, my credibility."
"You see, that is the thing Hortense. Isn't it only just a game after all ?"
He left his position and went by the door. He opened it. The music became louder. He stopped in his tracks. "Oh, I forgot." He said. "Nice dress." And he re-entered the room.
As soon as the door closed behind him, Hermione released an angry cry. She could hear her blood pulsing in her ears and her heart beating in her throat. She put her hands in her hair and pulled. She was about to reach the end of her tether.
She knew she had to go back inside, so she tried to fix her hair and put on a smile. She knew she would not convince anyone yet she entered the room. She briefly scanned it. Hermione saw Milton eating a desert, Belone laughing with Galbanda, Cassandre and Walburga arguing in the back. Then, she noticed the bar and the boy spiking his drink. Spiking was not the right term, Pollux was actually pouring his entire flask in his punch. She saw red.
She approached him, grabbed him by the arm and lead them both outside. He drunkenly followed her in the deserted corridors until they reached an empty classroom.
"One thing !" She yelled, the scream resonating in the room. "I asked you to do just one thing and you are not even capable of doing that. What's wrong with you ?" Her voice breaking at the end.
Hermione could feel the sharp smell of alcohol coming out of her friend. She was expecting goblin's bourbon to be the strongest smell because someone had spilled some on Pollux's tuxedo. However, he was stinking firewhiskey.
"And I-I asked y-you one thing too." He slurred.
"I told you I didn't have the time."
"And I told you I wanted to have fun tonight ! So if I want to get pissed I get pissed !" He yelled back. "I am Pollux fucking Parkinson."
"And you think that it gives you the right to be an arsehole ?!"
"Who are you to talk ? You're just some kid I've met a couple of months ago. Just fuck off Hortense."
He reached for a cigarette in his jacket, tried to light it but struggled as he was too intoxicated.
"You know what ? Fuck you Pollux. I am done. I am so done. "
She felt anger pulsing through her entire body. Her breath was quick and uneven and her eyes were wet from the tears that would roll on her cheeks soon. She left him alone in the room and slammed the door behind her.
She couldn't go back to the party, she wanted to go to her dormitories so she just kept walking, her gaze focused on nothing. She kept walking until she found herself in front of what she used to consider home. She wanted to get into her dormitories, even though those were not the right ones, she was exactly where she needed to be.
She looked at the Fat Lady in the painting and the woman smiled down at her. This made her finally cry.
"Sing for me please." She laughed through the tears.
And the Fat Lady complied.
Notes :
Translation of the discussion between Nicolas Rosier and Grace :
"..afterall it is for the greater good, isn't it ?"
"You are only a kid who got caught in the middle of a grown-up's war. This does not concern you."
"How dare you say that this doesn't concern me ? The only thing you have done so far is sit behind a desk."
Hope you guys like it.
We told you that the information in chapter 5 may be useful later.
Thank you so much for your reviews, it is wondeful to read them.
Lots of love.
-DDM's Manager
